


An Honest Woman

by f0rever15elf



Series: The Seamstress [3]
Category: The Great Wall (2017)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Cum Play, F/M, Food mention, Morning Sickness, PIV Sex, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, blood mention, injury mention, masturbation mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: Your relationship with Pero only continues, and your future begins to blossom; marriage and children well within your view.
Relationships: Pero Tovar/Reader, Pero Tovar/You, William Garin/ female OC
Series: The Seamstress [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976128
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	An Honest Woman

As time presses on, more and more things change while so much remains the same. Pero stays by your side always; splitting and hauling wood, hunting and working for coin and meat, tilling the garden patch, hauling water. He made sure to do all of the heavy lifting for you, insisting it was his place to do so. You simply chuckle at him and shake your head. It’s an excuse he tried to use before the two of you were married, but you would remind him that he had yet to make an honest woman of you and therefore the condition of your home was in fact your _own_ responsibility.

“Tell me, then, _hermosa_ ,” he had growled against your lips as he held you flush against him before the fire. “Before God, will you take me as your husband?” You had very nearly melted at his request, not expecting the sudden question from your little joke. You already considered yourself his and he yours, but to have him ask you specifically made your heart race with an excitement unlike any you had felt before. “Shall I make you an honest woman?”

His voice absolutely _dripped_ with desire and need in a way that made your toes curl as you fisted the cloth of his tunic. “Before God, take me as your wife, Pero Tovar.” He groaned at the way you whispered his name, pressing against you as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss that said all the things he couldn’t find the words to convey.

The next day found you before the town minister, having your marriage blessed in the custom of Pero’s upbringing. William, Mary, and their now two children attended, passing along their own blessings and gifts to celebrate your matrimony. “I was afraid I would be old and grey by the time you two tied the knot!” William played, earning a laugh from you and a sharp punch in the arm from your new grumpy husband. The blonde laughs as he rubs his arm before wrapping it back around Mary as she cradles their new son against her breast. They were the picture of the perfect family, and though you spent most days with your godchildren, you still longed to have the pitter patter of tiny feet filling your own little cottage.

It is a thought you had quite often. Your mind would wander to how Pero would look with a babe in his arms. Would they scowl like him or smile like you? Whose eyes would they have? Whose hair? Would they like to laugh and play, and would they learn all you and Pero had to teach them? Would they get along with Mary and William’s children?

“ _Amor?”_ he would murmur from his place with his head in your lap as your fingers card through the soft strands of his hair. He could always tell when your mind wandered off somewhere without him. “What burdens your thoughts?”

“Nothing, my love. Just silly thoughts. I’ll pay them no mind.” And then you would lean over and kiss his scar above his eye and he would hum, closing his eyes once more as you resumed your ministrations. He never asked, knowing you would tell him when you were ready, as you always did.

After the celebration of your marriage, you had led your new husband back to your home. A home that was now officially as much his as it was yours. Before you could cross the threshold, he leaned down to scoop you off your feet, carrying you across for the first time as man and wife. You giggled the whole way until he laid you so gently on your shared bed, crawling up to hover over you. A playful, gentle, loving smile painted your lips as he gazed down at you, hungry and wanting.

“Shall I tell you where my mind has been wandering all these nights, _mi esposo?”_ Pero shivered over you, loving the way his mother tongue sounded when it came from your lips. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before raising again to look down at you.

“Tell me, _amante_ , just what it is that took your mind off to lands unknown to me.”

“I was imagining our future. A future like that which William and Mary currently have. A future of tiny babes suckling from my breast and sleeping in your arms. A future where tiny laughs and cries fill the quiet air of our home.” Pero let out a groan at the thought, pressing his hips down against you.

“How often I have imagined you round with my child. Beautiful and full of another life.” You bit your lip as you arched up against him. “How many times I have fucked my own fist when you slept, weary from a long day, to the thought of your tits heavy with milk for our child. How I have imagined you would taste.”

“Pero,” you mewled as his hand tugged up your skirt, slipping under your undergarments to touch you.

“Will you give me children, _mi alma?”_ His voice was so deep, so rich, you felt as though you might melt as your hips bucked against his hand.

“Y-yes, Pero! Yes, I will!” Your voice was weak, barely a breath as Pero stole the air from your lungs with how his fingers moved against you, inside you.

“Then let us consummate our marriage, _amor_.” With that, the words between you stopped, save for your moans and pleas for more. This was far from the first time you had been physically intimate with your now husband, but all times before he had been careful to pull out before he finished, choosing to paint the swell of your tits or curve of your ass with his release. He did not wish to burden you with something such as a child out of wedlock. You had told him how the village had viewed Mary, even for a time after she and William had married, and he did not want such a name for you. No, if you were to bear his child, they would be legitimate.

With the thought now in his mind that he need not hold back, Pero was spurred on with renewed vigor. The screams he pulled from you were louder than ever before as he showed you just how much he wanted you, just how much he wanted to see you round with he babe. This time, rather than pulling out, he sped up inside you. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the walls of your bedroom as he gripped your hips firmly enough to bruise, and all you could do was cry out for him as your pleasure overwhelmed you. When he finally met his own bliss, he pressed his hips so firmly against yours you were certain it would be impossible to tell where you ended and he began. You felt him fill you for the first time, well and truly claiming you as his and his alone.

Eventually, he pulled out, sitting back on his haunches to watch you. How beautiful you looked laying there before him, your skin shining with sweat as the moon painted you in her silver caress. You fluttered around nothing, and slowly he saw himself beginning to leak out of you. His fingers worked quickly to shove it back inside of you, and the little moan you let out at the action made his cock twitch with desire once more. You would soon begin to swell with his child, he would make sure of it.

And make sure of it he did. You find yourself now a month into your marriage with your Spaniard, happier than you had ever been before as you continue to work for your store front while Pero keeps to his duties in the local butcher shop. You had felt off this morning, nauseated as you prepared breakfast for your husband. He had noticed, trying to insist on staying home to care for you, but when you wouldn’t back down he finally relented, reluctantly heading to the shop. You know that nausea is part of carrying a child. Mary had been terribly ill when she was carrying her first child, spending many nights on your bed so you could care for her. As your hand brushes against your stomach, still as it always has been, you wonder if perhaps your attempts had succeeded. It had, after all, been more than a moon cycle since you last bled.

Your thoughts continue to wander as you peel potatoes for the night’s stew. Pero had promised to bring home a nice cut of beef tonight, eager to have the meal you made for him every time he came to visit you. The thoughts wander too far, however, and your hands grow careless. The knife slips and you hiss as it clatters to the floor. Quickly, you rush to the water bucket on the counter, dipping a cloth in to clean the new gash on your finger. “ _Amor?”_ Pero calls from the doorway, concern in his voice when he sees you hunched over the bucket as he arrives home. “What’s wrong?”

You look to him with tears in your eyes as your finger throbs and he immediately runs to you, muttering a string of curses when he sees the blood. He knows you keep your medicinal supplies near your sewing station, quickly grabbing it and returning with the bandages to at least staunch the bleeding. His big, calloused hands cradle yours gently as he carefully wraps the wound, smoothing over his work when he’s finished. “I truly can’t leave you alone, can I?” It’s an attempt at a joke, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he looks back up to you with those beautiful eyes. “Please be more careful, _amor_. Especially when I am not here to care for you.” All you can do is nod, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips in thanks. His smile is so gentle when you lean back, it makes your heart stutter in your chest, overflowing with love for him.

“Did you bring the meat for dinner?” You finally ask after a moment of getting lost in his eyes. He grunts, turning to grab the package and sets it in front of you before unwrapping it.

“The best cut he could give me,” he says proudly. You open your mouth to praise him when the smell of the raw meat hits you and your stomach churns. Pero calls your name gently before you bolt for the door as you feel the saliva build in your mouth. You’re just over the threshold when your stomach clenches and you fall to your knees, retching up the contents of your stomach. Pero kneels beside you, his hand rubbing soothingly along your back as worry creases his brown. “ _Amor,_ what’s wrong? What ails you?” He soothes you through the rest of your sickness before you sit, leaning back against him as you fight to catch your breath. You can feel how tense he is, worried for you. “Should I find the medicine woman?”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you look up to him, your stomach settling. “Pero, my husband, I think all of our attempts… have finally paid off.” You give him a weak smile and his mouth falls open to a tiny ‘o’.

“You mean… you think that you are… with child?” His voice is soft, gentle, and full of so much unspoken hope that you can feel it causing tears to prick in your eyes as you nod. He lets out a held breath at your confirmation, gathering you into his arms as he buries his face against your neck. “A child. A baby. I can think of no better gift.” You wrap your arms around him, cooing sweet nothings to him as you run your fingers through his hair, sharing in his happiness. “ _Mi alma_ ,” he says as he lifts his eyes to look at you. “You will want for nothing. Anything you need, I shall do for you. You need only say the word.”

You flash him a small smile, tilting your head to peck his lips before leaning back. “Then, will you tend to the meat for dinner? The smell is something I cannot seem to stomach right now. Perhaps the little one doesn’t like meat.”

Pero’s eyebrows raise at your last statement, and he leans over to speak to your tummy. “Now, do not be so picky, my child. You must be kind to your mother.” He glances up to you, seeing you smiling down at him and his lips quirk into a small smirk before he rights himself. “As you wish, _mi cielo_.”

The next eight months bring with them many challenges. A changing palate and sensitive nose has meals blander than you’re used to, and while it doesn’t much bother Pero, you find yourself having long discussions with your growing belly about how their pickiness is vastly unappreciated. Your mood swings are terrible, and every time you snap at Pero a wave of guilt washes over you to the point where you’re in tears as he soothes you. The chamber pot is emptied so regularly it becomes a nuisance, and you aren’t even the one emptying it. But through it all, Pero never complains. He holds you, rubs the stress from your shoulders, strokes your now prominent belly with his tender caress, and soothes you when you need it most. He takes on the chores that the medicine woman deemed too stressful for you, much to your chagrin, but a kiss from him soothes away your upset.

The first time you feel a flutter of a kick, you gasp and drop the wooden bowl in your hands, spilling its contents across the floor. Pero is at your side in an instant, trying to find what’s wrong as his hands ghost over you. You take his wrist, stilling his movements as you lay it against your stomach. He waits, silent and confused. And then he feels it. A tiny, tiny kick against his hand and his eyes fly to meet yours, wide and amazed.

“That…they…the baby…” He can’t seem to form words and all you can do is nod. He looks back to his hand over your stomach before wrapping you in his arms, showering you with praises and kisses before falling to his knees to press his forehead against your tummy, muttering in Spanish to your bump.

The nights find you on your side, back pressed against his chest as his hand runs over your stomach then up to your breast. You’re tender now, your body preparing to nurture the life growing inside of you, and the gentle touches help to ease some of the discomfort. Such a gruff man, so gentle with you at all times. You can’t wait to see him with a babe in his arms.

When the day finally arrives, Mary and the medicine woman are at your bedside as your screams of agony come through the windows. William waits outside with a frantic Pero, trying to keep him calm without earning a black eye for the attempt. “I should be in there with her!” the Spaniard snaps at no one in particular as he paces. “That witch threw me out of my own home while my wife suffers!”

“She’s just doing her job, Tovar. She kicked me from the room during the birth of my kids, too.” William is leaned against the wall by the door, watching as his friend paces back and forth. Pero’s nostrils flair as you let out another wail, his eyes locked on the widow over your bed. He can hear Mary’s gentle encouragement as the medicine woman dictates instruction. His love, his life is behind that wall, in pain, and he was told to leave. Disgraceful. “It’s just the way things are.”

“The way things are is ridiculous,” he snaps, pointing accusatorialy at William who only shrugs.

“I don’t disagree, my friend.”

When another wail, this time carrying his name, finds its way to his ears, Pero decides he’s had enough. You would not suffer without him by your side. He moves for the door, William making no move to stop him as he storms inside. He strides to your side, taking your hand in his as he kneels beside you and winces at the grip you take on him. The medicine woman tries to protest but the look he shoots at her silences her. She resumes her instruction, Pero speaking to you softly as he wipes the sweat from your face and bushes the bit of hair stuck to your skin away. Tears stream down your cheeks and Pero’s heart breaks to see you in such pain, knowing he is the cause. He showers you with praises you only partially hear over your own cries, telling you how amazing you are, how well you are doing.

And then, after what seems like an eternity, a tiny cry meets his ears. He turns to look at the medicine woman as she holds a child, _his_ child, in her arms. It’s wrinkled and furious, this child. Kicking and screaming and fighting as she wipes their skin clean, and in that moment he knows this babe is well and truly his. 

“Congratulations. It’s a girl.” Pero Tovar’s heart stutters in his chest, his mouth falling open as he looks back to you. You’re exhausted, lying limp on the bed as you weakly reach to hold your new daughter. As the medicine woman lays her in your arms, you’re overcome with such intense warmth for this little life. Such a passionate love. Pero’s finger tips brush at her cheek gently as she squalls, furious with her eviction from the warmth of her mother’s womb.

“She’s… so beautiful,” Pero whispers, his voice thick. You nod, smiling at her as she slowly calms down to the beat of your heart. “We… we made… something so beautiful?” You give a weak laugh at his question, nodding again as you look up to your husband. You will never forget the look of wonder and awe on his face as he stares at his little girl for the first time.

“We need to give her a name, my love. What shall we name her?”

“Isabella,” he says without hesitation, and you feel your heart swell. You know it is the name of his mother, one of the only things he remembered of her. 

“Isabella is perfect,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss her tiny forehead. “Isabella Mary Tovar.” Pero makes a grunt of agreement as his hand rests against your head, gently stroking over your hair.

Quickly, you feel what remains of your strength leaving you, the exertion begging you to rest now. Carefully, you hand Isabella off to Pero who cradles her to his chest as delicately as a flower. “Rest, _mi amor_ ,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. “You did so well.” With a smile on your lips at your husband’s praise, you quickly drift to sleep.

The months roll on for you and your new family, and all those questions you had imagined come to be answered. She has your hair, and Pero’s eyes. She laughs and smiles like you, but wears her father’s scowl when she’s upset. She loves to be held, and cuddled, and seems to like her father the best out of the two of you. It’s no uncommon sight to see your husband laying on the bed, dozing with the babe on his chest sound asleep. He is so gentle with her, doting on her, his little _princessa_. You can think of no better father for her than the one she has, thinking of how blessed you are that this Spaniard with a fierce scowl rode into your life all those years ago.

Given the chance to change one thing about your life, for the first time ever you can safely say you would choose to change absolutely nothing. 


End file.
